Lynn opened his eyes.
The smell of disinfectant filled his nose, and a blank white ceiling came into view.
Waves of dull pain ran through his body.
His head hurt especially badly, as though something had smashed into it.
Unfamiliar memories flooded his mind without warning.
Battlefields, trenches, explosions close at hand, and the sound of a camera shutter stubbornly clicking amid the chaos.
His name was Lynn Morris, a war correspondent assigned to the front lines.
He remembered how he had been injured.
A shell had exploded nearby, and the searing blast had knocked him off his feet. Intense pain had been followed by endless darkness.
"I'm still alive..."
The realization brought him a rush of relief.
He instinctively looked around and assessed his situation: this was a temporary field hospital, poorly supplied and rudimentary.
Just as he was considering how to survive this hellish year of 1943, a clear, pleasant voice rang out in his head.
[Host's mental fluctuations detected as stable. Activation conditions met] [Superhero Mutual Entertainment Achievement System officially activated]
Lynn froze for a moment, then his reason was swept away by wild joy!
It was here!
The golden finger every transmigrator needed!
After death on the battlefield and that endless darkness, this was the only glimmer of hope that could free him from this hell!
In 1943, when human life was worth less than grass, he finally had a trump card that could overturn the table!
[This system is the Superhero Mutual Entertainment Achievement System. Its purpose is to assist the host in creating and cultivating superheroes, providing the host with improvements in all areas through the completion of various achievements]
"Create superheroes? In this day and age?"
Lynn suddenly found it a little absurd.
It was 1943!
There was fighting everywhere!
He was a reporter who could die at any moment, and he was supposed to create superheroes?
[For every superhero the host successfully creates or cultivates, 10% of their abilities will be synchronized to the host as an enhancement] [Completing any superhero-related achievement will grant one draw]
Lynn's heart began to race.
Ability synchronization?
Draws?
That sounded a lot more promising than being a war correspondent.
[Newbie gift pack has been issued] [Contents: one superhero draw] [Pool: all superheroes or villains outside the Marvel Universe]
Lynn's breathing quickened.
That meant all those powerful characters from DC, Dark Horse, and elsewhere were in the pool!
Superman, I want Superman!
He shouted in his heart.
As long as he drew Superman, never mind the battlefields of World War II-he could do whatever he wanted on the entire planet!
"System! Start the draw!"
[Newbie hero draw initiated]
A virtual wheel appeared in Lynn's mind, covered in countless slots whose names he couldn't make out.
The wheel began to spin rapidly.
He could already imagine himself with Superman's powers...
Flight, Heat Vision, invulnerability to weapons... Even a weakened version would be enough to end the war.
The wheel gradually slowed, and the blurred names began to come into focus one by one.
The Flash, Wonder Woman, Spawn, Hellboy...
Every one of those names excited Lynn.
Any one of them would be enough to let him establish himself in this world, or even live a better life.
The pointer passed those familiar names and finally came to a slow stop on a slot he vaguely recognized.
[Congratulations, host. You have drawn the superhero-Soldier Boy]
The wheel vanished.
A character card floated in Lynn's mind.
The man on the card wore a dark green combat suit and held a triangular shield. His face was rugged, but his eyes held a defiant, vicious look.
Soldier Boy.
The excitement on Lynn's face gave way to disappointment.
Of course he knew this guy.
The arrogant, stupid, utterly crude guy who called himself a "hero" while committing every kind of evil.
A complete scumbag, a walking troublemaker.
Lynn felt a breath stuck in his chest, unable to go in or out.
It only took one draw to go from heaven to hell.
Soldier Boy: a name that meant violence and unpredictable disaster.
Let him loose on a World War II battlefield?
Lynn could foresee this guy being more destructive than German artillery.
Give up?
Giving up meant going back to being a war correspondent who could be killed by a stray bullet at any moment, struggling on in this mud and despair.
Until death claimed him a second time.
Lynn closed his eyes and went over this body's memories.
In the trenches, soldiers had been sharing hard black bread one moment, only to be blown to pieces by a shell the next.
He had even seen a seventeen-year-old signals soldier clutching a photo of his fiancée tightly against his chest as he lay dying.
Death was the cheapest thing in this land.
Giving up Soldier Boy meant going back to that despair.
No... He didn't want to die again.
He'd had enough of that helplessness as darkness swallowed him!
Damn it, what was the point of transmigrating if a transmigrator could still get killed?
Ruthless feelings grew like weeds in his heart. Lynn opened his eyes, his disappointment and dejection utterly crushed.
"Even a venomous snake can kill the enemy if you use it right."
Lynn murmured under his breath.
"There's no way back. No matter what kind of monster he is, he'll have to pull the cart for me!"
The guy's abilities were good.
Super strength, super endurance, and the ability to unleash a deadly energy blast.
But his personality was a grenade with the pin pulled.
And the system hadn't said whether summoned heroes were loyal.
Lynn closed his eyes and focused all his attention on the Soldier Boy card in his mind.
The man in the dark green uniform, holding a shield, with a defiant look in his eyes.
"Summon Soldier Boy."
The moment he gave the command, a weakness from the depths of his soul made his vision go dark. A powerful wave of dizziness hit him, nearly sending him tumbling out of the hospital bed.
A faint golden light flashed in front of Lynn's bed, and a tall figure appeared out of thin air.
A smell of whiskey, cheap cigars, and sweat hit him in the face.
It made Lynn's head spin.
He wore that dark green combat suit, the golden eagle emblem on his chest glinting in the dim light.
Soldier Boy.
He had really appeared.
The man's short blond hair was slightly disheveled, and his handsome face wore a blank, hungover look of confusion.
He blinked, his blue eyes sweeping over his surroundings.
The crude iron bed.
The white walls with their peeling paint.
And Lynn, in a hospital gown on the bed.
"Where is this?"
"Which asshole brought me to this godforsaken place?"
Lynn's heart pounded in his chest.
The man in the flesh was countless times more imposing than he had been on the card.
That aggressive presence made the dull ache in Lynn's head even worse.
"I did."
Lynn forced himself to calm down.
Soldier Boy's frown deepened. He stepped forward and looked down at Lynn as though he were looking at an insect.
"You? A kid who's about to die?"
His voice was full of mockery and disbelief.
"Don't joke with me, kid. Tell me who did it. Was it the Russians? Or are those Vought assholes trying some new trick?"
Reasoning with someone like him wouldn't work.
He had to make Soldier Boy understand the situation in the simplest, most direct way possible.
Lynn raised a hand and pointed at a yellowed wartime poster on the wall. A line of small print appeared in its corner.
"Welcome to... 1943."
"What did you say?"
"I said it's 1943. World War II. You're not in your own time anymore."
Soldier Boy rubbed his nose. I haven't snorted anything today, have I?
He looked down at his hands, then around at his surroundings again. His expression went from confusion to shock, and finally to uncontrollable fury.
"1943? Are you fucking with me?"